


Glacies Santatum

by TwoCatsTailoring



Series: Time Marches On [19]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Blind Ignis Scientia, Burns, F/M, Implied Gentiana/Ignis Scientia, Injury Recovery, Major Character Injury, Pain, Post-Altissia (Final Fantasy XV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2020-12-22 20:35:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21082694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwoCatsTailoring/pseuds/TwoCatsTailoring
Summary: Just after the events of Altissia, Ignis is recovering as best he can. But injuries like his are hard to heal and harder still to bear while they heal.





	Glacies Santatum

**Author's Note:**

> I legitimately thought I'd already moved this over here and I didn't! So here it is, home from the Tumblr wars.

“Surely,” the words, no matter how hard he tried or how much he willed them to be steady and even light, came out choked and forced, “It isn’t already time for this again?”

The door to his room had opened and closed and usually, that meant that someone was going to be touching him. If he sat very still and did not move, it was bearable. But shifting against the too-rough sheets or even taking too deep of a breath was enough to ratchet the tension in his body up another notch.

Cleaning expanses of burned skin, so tender under the inflamed protection of blisters that had to be drained was an agonizing process no matter how careful the hands were that did it. And they’d done it three times today already. Ignis simply could not take such treatment again. Not right now. Not this tired and battered and worried and drained and alone.

Nearly silent footsteps moved closer and Ignis gave up all pretense of being strong. “Please, can’t we skip this? Just once? It’s been two days….” His voice shook and he was glad he was alone now. Something needed to break loose and he doubted that if he had the company of his friends, he could have done it.

Something was off because instead of tongue clicking or apologies he felt a weight on the edge of the bed that was his island. He couldn’t see, couldn’t tell who it was, and without them identifying themselves, it could be anyone.

Terror nearly made him sick. Caught, trapped in his own head and in this bed not able to see or defend or move far without risking more pain and injury he was cornered. Locked into whatever this situation turned out to be and frustrated and angry at the fact that he had no idea what or who or how….

“Shh, since when do you fear me?” Her smile he remembered. Enigmatic, knowing, _charming_.

A cool hand held his. Another cupped his cheek and a dry breath shivered out of his mouth. “Gentiana?”

Her palm ghosted up his cheek, hovering over injuries he was sure would be scars later on but now felt only like his face was being seared with hot coals. And he begged, pleaded with her over and over with panic rising at the fear of the endless searing agony that her touch would bring, “Please, don’t. Don’t, it hurts. I can’t… no. No, please don’t.”

Ignis fought, without reason or method, any way to get away from the touch he knew would do nothing but cause more agony. He latched onto her wrist, using whatever strength he had to hold her back, but he could no more move her than he could have moved the Old Wall. 

“I can’t heal you; only to the Oracle was that gift given.” She was so close to him that he could feel each word, like a cool cloth over a feverish head though it had no effect in calming him down. “But I can ease your pain.”

“No, no, Gentiana please don’t.” He choked on the words and his shoulders shook, desperate to sob but knowing that tears would only make the tongues of fire and pressure all the worse because they had nowhere to go.

Terror twisted in his chest, his lungs ready to scream or bite it back, whichever one he did not know or care, but when she touched him, the heat began to abate. The pain was there, but the heat, burning and searing and never-ending, began to fade. 

He didn’t understand. This was meant to be painful, meant to hurt and torment. How was she doing that? Magic? Some form of Elemancy? How? What?

“Always you question,” her voice was laughing at him. But the heat was leaving him, his face, his eyes, his hand, his shoulder and arm and back. They hurt but they did not burn. 

Before he could catch enough of his breath to even form a question in his head much less let it out of his mouth, she was done. The fire was gone as if it had never been there. 

His hands went lax, then one tightened around hers as he felt her begin to slip away. “No, Gentiana, how did you…”

“Shh,” she shushed him again, that smile in his memory again. Her lips brushed his; cool and careful. “Rest now.”

He fought the rising black of sleep, wanting answers and explanations that he would just have to make do without.


End file.
